Paradise
by Raelightuponfire
Summary: I started the first part of this as a response to another writer  kayori88  who did Glen's perspective. The story is tragic, but is a love story built on illusion, and the life that may have been... before ch 67 kinda of crushed that idea. Did it?


I started writing this a week ago, so now readers know I'm a mess. I started the first part of this as a response to another writer (**kayori88**) who did Glen's perspective. The rest of this is just a bit of a story, and I limited it to be as vague as possible seeing as I don't want to jump the gun.

I thought Glen and Lacie were related somehow, so I limited Glen's response to 'family' instead of calling her his sister. We don't know how they knew each other yet. I still hold the faith in Glen x Jack, seeing as the roles are reversed. It has been a bit, so some of the story may have been typed differently than I originally was inspired to; I completely forgot some of the original ideas. ^^#

I am the lie.

My smiles, full of promise and light, now mean only the madness without a feel.

My loyalty, full of love, stained more beautiful with sacrifice, now only mean a heartless assassin's heist.

An irony for the years; so beautiful, so sweet.

Darling, why don't you tell me, your lips seem so cold, are we still friends?

Never again will my kisses release you, holding on to another dear lover.

Never again will my smiles be clear, happy for you, joy for me.

Let us play this game, you the victim, I the murder.

Can you hear me, can you hear me?

I thought not,

never again.

It was so beautiful outside, the bright green leaves of the great tree directly behind the glass of the library's high rectangular windows sent dazzling flecks of sunlight into the otherwise solemn room.

The dark master was set to work on something, as he always was, trying to get it finished so he could move on to something else outside of the dull room. The walls were the same lifeless grey as the road outside, the rectangle windows lining the upper parts of the walls over the high shelves, encasing the master in a space that was designed to keep him more entertained with the parchment in front of him than the atmosphere inside, which would have regularly put him to sleep as a child.

He looked up, and a glint of gold caught his eyes as he turned the paper so he could write the next line better.

"Jack." The braid of gold shone out incredibly, the light making it stand out with the natural luster that had stunned everyone in the past. Jack stood with his back to Glen, almost against the bookshelf in front of him with a rather large book to his midriff, holding it as he looked over the pages with slow fascination.

His eyes didn't lift as Glen had expected them to; instead he continued reading, not even attempting to lean out of the sunlight, "Glen?" his eyes lowered slightly, out of Glen's sight, trying to concentrate on the words he was deciphering, his friend was clearly the one related to it's author.

"Nothing." Glen turned his eyes back to the paper, having recalled his train of thought, as Jack turned a page in the extensive chapter. Glen looked up again, the braid the only part of Jack's head that he could see, the calm form still looking into the pages after words that could not be any color but black. He smiled, only a small thing, but this was not the first time he'd seen Jack so quiet. It was that only he had seen him this way, apart from Lacie.

"Jack, is that book really all that interesting?" He scratched out another long list of politically polite words on the parchment, his eyes not looking up as Jack replied, disinterested as he was, "It is interesting enough, until you're finished, Glen." And continued on, shifting his arms to turn the next page.

"Just be patient. I'm almost done, with this letter at least." Jack waved his hand in recognition, though it was obvious he didn't believe him as his face remained turned to the pages. Glen smiled again, the smirk becoming airborne, as Jack still concentrated on the book. Finally, it seemed, Jack had had enough of the silence.

"Glen, why are there so many? Surely the dukes can wait a few days, get a little air outside of their chambers." Glen frowned, though he continued to conclude the letter with a few choice words instead of the lengthy address they had left in theirs. "It's their obligation to inform me of any changes they make. I have to sign off my approval, otherwise I'll be oblivious"

A hollow cough caught Glen off guard, perhaps the book was harder to shut than it had seemed. Jack had turned, his eyes still bored from the endless amounts of grey, his hands holding the covers of the book closed tightly with his force. Glen's eyes had come up immediately, watching Jack as his friend's eyebrow lifted, a friendly smile following after another moment, "I understand, Glen. I'm merely making a complaint." Lightly, his fingers guided the book back into its higher place on the shelf, his braid flowing as he made the turn away. Slowly he turned back, undeniably lost on what to do next.

Glen had looked down again, placing the final period in the letter, and smoothed it to the side. He tapped the pen lightly back into its well with finality, "I have to take a break regardless, Jack. If you want, we could get some of the maids to set out a picnic for the little girl, you can join her while I finish these."

Jack's eyes lifted, his ethereal stance seeming to take to his new status well, but his breath was coarse, "Which of the girls?" Glen smiled pleasantly, his eyes watching Jack's as they turned away, "What is with that look? Certainly they're good company, whichever one happens to come." Jack smiled, he looked tired just thinking about it, "I suppose. Though the good Alice does tend to keep me from going into a panic on the typical occasion."

Glen smiled then, laughing at Jack's discomfort at the Alice, the most conniving of the two. She wore out Jack better than anyone could, much to Jack's own distaste, but those people who knew about Alice were happy for her, it gave them some peace and quiet.

"Master." Both pairs of eyes came up slightly, looking by the doorway where the small child had appeared. Jack watched the smaller person come forward, the child knowing that Glen was kinder than the other people he approached, which tended to shock anyone who came into Glen's private life, besides Jack. It had been a rare chance entirely that he'd found that out on the day they'd met, the tiny bird more than enough promise that he wasn't walking up on a specter.

The small servant came close to Jack, passing him as he made his way to the side of Glen's seat, "Master, luncheon is out. The maids tried to fill up the added meals, as you asked." Glen smiled again, reaching out to muss the servant's hair, which Jack had always wanted to run a brush through, "Thank you, Gil. And as I've specifically told you, you can call me Glen. You're family, now." Gil hesitantly looked towards the other man in the room, but there was no sign of surprise in any of his features. Instead, he smiled sweetly, but Gil's eyes traveled back to Glen's, as a small smile claimed the cute servant. "Master." Glen laughed easily then, "Alright, you coy. Get on with what you were doing, we'll be out in a moment."

Glen came out from behind his desk then, as Gil made his way out to the attending servants. His smile was gone, but he was watching, making sure that Jack would follow him as usual. After a moment of silence, his eyes turned downward, raising them again as he went to follow after Gil. Quietly, Jack turned his eyes back up to the book he'd slipped back into the grey, the bright cover the only vibrant color in the place, the sun shining on the coat and through the gold of his hair, before turning quickly to catch up to Glen, who was now stepping out into the hall, no longer worried that Jack would soon be by his side.

"Jack, are you feeling well?" Jack was leaning against the leather chair now, his braid hanging to his thighs which were partially relaxed from their place out of the seat, his eyes were drooped heavily, his lips moved solemnly, free from care, "I am fine." The purple irises watched the falling lids of his friend, careful though to not splotch the page with his momentary hesitation. His eyes watched his friend carefully, though his eyes never left his face. His pen stayed motionless just above the parchment, "Are you?"

Jack leaned his head back against the headrest, not looking very exhausted, but tired nonetheless. He wasn't going to answer. Glen tapped his pen back into the well after a moment of this quiet; though he knew Jack didn't snore, it was difficult to allow him to sleep on such a tight, uncomfortable surface.

"Jack," He said gently, leaning over the side of the chair at his friend as he touched on his shoulder, Jack's eyes opened after a moment, his eyebrows rising at Glen's firm touch, "Yes?" Glen earnestly looked down at the bright eyes, Jack's eyes drawn up to the pure violet of Glen's; he did have the perfect view, the depths of the color having a transfixing affect. "Jack, please, you shouldn't be sleeping in here."

Jack sighed, and slid back into his original alert position, trying his best to appear normal, "Then I won't sleep." He said lightly, but his face was dreary. Calmly, he placed his hands in front of him, his fingers intertwining, but Glen could see that it was not effortless. He smiled, knowing Jack would pass out if and when he left the room, and wake up with a backache later. "Come, you can use the other room. We only lend it for regals, but no one ever stays in it. It's about time it was occupied." Softly, as Glen touched his shoulders behind the cuffs, Jack lifted himself, settling into a silent walk as Glen guided him, Glen even coming close to his side after a minute.

Through the marble-floored hall, about a few feet away, a well-furnished arch lead into a quiet room lit brilliantly by the sunlight outside, traces of large trees catching the sunlight in their leaves in front of the window. Jack looked around, moving a step towards the window, when he felt Glen's hands at his shoulders again, and his voice carried richly in Jack's ears, "Let me, after all, this has been outside and gotten dirty." Jack nodded easily, tucking his shoulders back as the coat was taken off, taken to another part of the room. He moved forward then, coming to touch the trim of the window, admiring the beautiful colors of the miniature woods outside.

Jack turned around, and realizing that he was alone after a quick sweep of his eyes, slowly reached up and worked at the buttons of his vest, it was tighter than he had expected; the tailor must have made a mismeasurement. Though he knew he couldn't complain. He smiled at the touch of the luxury fabric, and with little effort managed to get it off, laying it gently on the chair nearest to him. His eyes traced the bed for any signs of wear or of dust, but as usual for the Baskervilles, not a single spot was left to even normal standards of clean. Tightly, he pulled on his sleeves, the buttons already undone. At least, if anything, Alice had gained him a moment of respite.

He rested, finally, falling into the bed, shifting until he lay just before the pillows, his braid resting between his shoulder blades. The luxury was cold against his chest, and he laid his cheek to the fabric for a few gentle moments.

The door opened then, and Jack didn't lift his head; he knew it was probably Glen making sure no one had found him in there yet.

"Ah, Jack, do you mind if I join you for a minute?" Jack's eyes opened, surprised. He turned, seeing Glen at the door, his eyes looking about as tired as his. Even sad. Jack smiled, knowing better than most that Glen was in need of sleep. "Of course, you do realize I'm here stealing your luxury for my own comfort?" he laughed for a moment before stretching, settling again as he rested his chin into the fabric.

Silence continued, as shuffling finally settled with a pressure at the side of the bed. Slowly, Jack felt Glen turn, and the bed shuddered with his own shiver. The soft movement confused him as suddenly skin was felt at his side: Glen's back. "It is cold." He said softly, at which Jack's already opened eyes turned, his head turning as well to see the skin of his friend at his side, "Glen, it is cold, but why not use the sheets? They are warm." Glen answered back easily, his voice clear but still sad, he breathed his words, "Your skin is warm already, why not stay by you?" Jack sighed, and hesitantly, allowed his chin to settle back to its nearly original place. "Very well then, get warm." He felt the pressure lift, and slowly arms came around under his chest, he felt the pressure on him instead. His eyes, already opened again in shock, he had only a moment to realize that the arms were Glen's before the words came out of his lips, "Glen-sama,"

He felt the skin to his back shift, and he felt Glen's neck to the back of his own, his lips coming within reach of his jaw. His hair tickled him, but he shrugged at the shiver, not wanting to threaten farther. It was Glen's turn to speak, and he knew it. "Jack," he said softly, he knew he'd surprised him, but the press of his lips to Jack's throat surprised him more, "You have to understand, I cannot just have you at the polite length anymore, you are dear to me. If nothing else, you surprised me with my attachment." Slowly, the hands reached around his waist, tugging tightly at the waist of the pants, exposing more skin. Jack stressed, his own muscles pushing against Glen's, "Glen, stop." Jack felt Glen relax then, pushing them both back down, his arms now grasping him closely, "You, stop. Don't pretend you don't even feel something of this yourself." Slowly, Jack relaxed as well, though he was quick to say back, "I care about you, Glen. But dearly as a friend." Glen didn't lift, but he was quiet, and in a moment, he felt the press of skin against the fabric of his pants, the distance between his skin and Glens, made him resist even as the warmth flooded around him, "Of course you would say that." Jack frowned, and with his own hands pressing against Glen's, he tried again to push Glen off, and Glen subsided, laying right to his side, his arm holding him up so he could see his friend, who lifted himself up onto his knees.

"What is all of this, anyways?" Jack asked quietly, unable to reach his shirt or anything else to cover him, besides the pillows. He thought about it for a moment, but turned his head away, they wouldn't help at all. He traced his closed fingers on the comforter of the bed, though his eyes came up the next, trying to find just what was pooled in the morphine-like violet eyes. The eyes looked back at him, not hostile, not mad, not even sad anymore. They watched him, as they had always done. Then his lips moved, the purple leaning back, his hair falling in the perfect mess it had never once shown to the public, "I… can't say that I'm happy just being the way we are, close but never together. I cannot pretend that things were going to stay as they were any way we tried." Jack's eyes slowly became soft, quiet, like he'd reached a part in the story he had not seen, "And so, am I supposed to say something now?" Glen leaned forward then, shifting so that they were closer, his eyes now daring, "I wish you would."

Jack leaned forward then, catching Glen off guard, "Then, if you are certain, there's nothing else I can do. I care for you, but forgive me that I'm surprised." Glen's eyes became harder then, but at the same time, Jack sensed something else that he'd never seen, "Then, is that it?" The dark green eyes stared back, the golden flecks tracing around the edges, lighting up the room as though he were an angel as the others had speculated, "Yes, that is it." Then, quite suddenly, he leaned forward, lying on his back on the comforter, his green eyes watching Glen. The specter watched him, but quite slowly Jack could see the energy in his eyes growing, his calm breaking as his friend lay, waiting for him.

Glen leaned forward and with a silence that suggested simplicity, touched his lips calmly, through pressingly, to Jack's forehead, his bangs once again tickling Jack so that the lips below formed an instant smile, and lightly, below him, the fingers came up, touching his cheek with the warmth that he had tried to obtain. Lightly, the hand relaxed around his cheek, and lightly became more stressed, holding him. Gently he settled, skin to skin, the way they had been before, but now the morphine purple could see the green, and they watched each other carefully, though at this point it had been decided. Without much more of a concern, the purple eyes came forward, and hungry lips grasped at the ones below, even still stubborn to allow the other to become more aggressive. Tightly he reached around him, but the other arms relaxed, knowing better that he was not going to be pushed away again, unless it was absolutely necessary. And it was, as Jack pushed up again, breaking the clash of Glen's new passion. "We cannot, Glen. What if Lacie found out?" Glen's eyes hardened, and he leaned forward again, trying to persuade him, but Jack pushed back, turning away, his arms tight as he resisted the gentle hand that touched his shoulder. Slowly, Glen pushed him forward, and Jack turned, his arms catching Glen as the purple eyes watched, and gently pulled away everything that remained between.

The pillows weren't any help, as he had always known, their light texture the only thing that disrupted the flow of the sheets, light and cool, from where the comforter had been twisted until they'd appeared, light red. Hadn't the Baskervilles always had the same color scheme with everything? They didn't bother with the sheets, but gently the pillows provided a shield, though if anyone came in the secret would be more than recognized by the figures close together, slowly losing energy in each other's embrace.

Glen relaxed finally, already back in his regular clothes, the black and red the only contrast to the vanilla white and red. Jack's vest was tight again, full around the billows of the blouse, his braid as carefully placed as usual. The strands that were always loose, though carefully flowing around his eyes, shifted lightly with the change of wind, Jack turning to fix the jacket around his throat. Charmingly suspicious as usual, he stood, turning himself slowly so that the fabric fixed itself to his true shape, and the bright eyes rested back on his partner.

"Your servant will be looking for you," he said lightly, coming over to better shape the collar of his friend, "If he doesn't find you, he'll most likely be in more of a panic than anyone else he conscripts in a line of flurrying servants." Glen nodded, and stood, almost walking straight into Jack's busy hands, "We have to go, then." He turned away, but a smile was shadowing his lips, and a soft smile came back to him, light and settled, so that his partner came behind him, pretending as he was that things were still the same, though no doubt the escape entrance would be more useful than ever. Either way, Jack was certain to be found, Glen holding on to him as the light he had taken up in his trade was silently snuffed by the exhaustion of their breaths.

…

Weeks later, Gil moved through the silent marbled floored halls, listening for his master; it was early, but it was better that he greeted him first, as more news was underway from the dukes. As he moved, he heard a rustle from the study, and moved quickly to the large trimmed doors, but silently in the dark of the hallway he pushed the ajar door open, the dim fire of a single candle flooding him with its power, the cascade of light glowing across the floor. Glen was scratching out something in another book, frustrated as his hand worked, the small pile of letters and documents sitting silently as the matter was corrected. Jack leaned with his back nearly against the bookshelves that he steadied himself with, his stance seeming worn and exhausted by a sleepless night.

Jack pressed his fingers to his head, as though stressed, when the small creak of the door turned both their attentions to the small servant. Surprised to find them both in the study so calm and so early, Gil slowly made his way forward, unconfident in his movements. Only a few steps from the door, he stopped, unsure of what he was supposed to do now that he'd found his master awake, already working. Slowly, his eyes turned to the exhausted Jack, his eyes weary as he looked to the ground, his braid glimmering in the dull light. "Are you tired, master?" Gil asked softly, the green eyes coming up immediately as he said it. Jack laughed nervously, though quiet with his stress, as he lifted himself solidly into a less limp stance, "No, I am fine, child. It is so early, though, especially for you." His eyes seemed to glimmer even with his wear, and calmly lifted himself to standing, coming over to offer the boy his hand, "You have done what you were sent to do? Glen is busy again with his work, you can go to sleep if you want to." Gil looked at the hand tentatively, and looked over to Glen, who still worked continuously, no longer worried as Jack was there. He shook his head quietly, his eyes turning away to the ground. Jack's hand faltered for a moment, and settled back at his side, though the small smile was still there, unsurprised by Gil's rejection. Finally, slowly, Gil's eyes looked up again, searching Jack's eyes for traces of malice, but instead the green reflection remained the same, waiting for him to decide that he was just a harmless man, wanting his acceptance. Gil moved forward then, his hand resting on Jack's for a moment, as Jack watched in wonder. And slowly their fingers intertwined, Jack leading the young boy over to the bookshelf, the child resting his back against his thigh, watching Glen as he scratched at the work in front of them, the fire from the candle bathing them in light.

…

"Jack!" The green eyes didn't waver as his friend moved back, allowing him to sit up again, if only he were present. "I swear, I didn't think the tree would drop you. It looked strong!" The gold eye and red eye were filled with tears, not understanding that Jack was mad at the sheer fact that he had done this several times before, and never learned. It took him a minute to reappear in the moment, his hand coming up to the familiar hurt under his imperfect strands, the bumps in the braid dissolving the new small one that lay beneath. "Ow." He said lightly, though his face was pained. His head wasn't the only thing bruised, but he wasn't about to upset the child more. Alice, too, was at his side, her grin at once making Jack jump in his place, though he was used to taunting. "You crybaby, it's his own fault. Or rather," she got a better idea, and Jack's face crinkled at the smile she gave, "This is _entirely_ your fault. He'll probably collapse later today, and you'll have to endure Glen's suffering at his murder." Vincent, never before one to cry, immediately wept harder; his brother a distance away was too shocked to make any move to help him. "He's dead, he's dead, and it's your entire fault!" she laughed, even as Jack tried to console the child, "I'm truly fine, really." He laughed nervously in between Alice's ecstatic chants. Jack leaned forward then, his hand quick to try and cover her lips, but she darted out of his way, Vincent now coming forward to grasp at Jack's hair, trying to see that Jack was fine, though he seemed convinced otherwise thanks to Alice. Hadn't he warned Glen of this many times before? And still in the morning flickering of the candle he'd asked him to entertain them until he joined them. His eyes were gentle as he pulled the child closer, brushing back the messy bangs on his forehead, as Vincent held his head still in a pleading gaze. "Come now, don't think me so fragile." He chuckled, his fingers brushing at the softness of the skin, the child's tears still fresh on his cheeks. Jack leaned in then, his eyes allowing the child to peer in, calming him. "I'm not dying. Don't listen to Alice, Vincent. She is only a girl, and you have no need to mind her. She's truly a miniature tyrant." He chuckled at the child's approaching smile, devious as it may have been, and the child leaned back, turning out of Jack's reach to go after Alice, throwing his own taunts at her.

Jack's eyes suddenly saw movement, and he saw Glen standing under the walk, watching them with an emotionless gaze. Jack smiled, finally seeing him away from the silence of his study, though he seemed weighed with the work. Slowly, the violet eyes stared straight into his, coming to him from his distance, a small smile of his own forming as the children saw him, each running in a frenzy to grasp at his legs. The sunlight still streaming, bright and glorious, caught on their hair and turned Glen's raven strands light. Jack came closer, reaching out gently, catching the light in his hands as they closed around his mate's, the heat of his throat was warm as Jack rested his head under it for only a moment in secret.

….

Days later Glen's impassive face was tortured, the edges of his eyes showing a strain against tears as the older servant relayed the information that now exploded the streets and every hall in the Baskerville manor. His hand came up, trying to quell the urge to shout and end the anguish; Lacie was dead, and no one could save her from the pain that was now undeniably Abyss's to end.

"How?" He cried out, his fingers tight as the sheets of paper lay at the sides of his desk, no longer cared for by their master or anyone. The servant replied clearly, his voice unattached to the death he had brought to his master, "Abyss, how else? Her sacrifice, it seems, has had a fair result." Glens hands came down, restrained by the pain and tightness in his chest, his fingers feeling over the rough of the desk as they touched down, "Result!" his voice was louder than he had anticipated, the cry so powerful, "She is dead!" his fingers tightened, the energy in his eyes a quiet rage, his voice retaining the same unutterable curse, "And no one can ever see her, never hear her, never see her smile. Her breath is gone, her face is cold. And somewhere in that hell you worship she rots as if she were nothing but space taking dust!" The servant watched, his face as unconcerned as ever, "The news is severe, yes. But you are right, she is now nothing. Everyone knows this."

Suddenly, a horrible thought came over Glen, the violet eyes shifting from anger to fear, the passion of which was pained, as he leaned forward at the idea, "Jack!" the melody rushed into his ears, now painted in bright, dripping red. No doubt, the sweet golden music resided against her breast, wherever she might be. Their music. The servant looked back at him, his face suggesting that Glen had clearly lost his mind, "Jack, sir?" He asked, his brows furrowed as his face scrunched slightly. Glen quickly exclaimed, his fingers raising ever slightly to his chest, "Jack, Jack Vessalius! Has anyone told him of this yet?" His heart pounded, remembering those masked, clear eyes, unconcerned with the world and ignorant of the horrors he had witnessed, as though it would convulse him if he allowed them to reach him in his world of light.

The servant seemed surprised as well as confused, his eyes turning away, "Ah, Vessalius." He brushed the name away with distaste, his brows coming up with his head again, "Anyways, it is certain it has reached him sometime or other. No one can be ignorant of such a thing, no worries about that. It has reached all ears."

…..

_Lacie._ The name repeated in unision, over and across again, as heat brought tears to Jack's eyes, but never falling. His hair, never once before a mess, was now ruffled by his constant fingers, trying to soothe himself of the fact that she was gone; and the pain, the sheer horror of it, made him feel like screaming. His face buried itself in his arms, folded over the surface of the table that bore his weight, the shivers colliding as his shoulders tensed, the weight was heavy, and yet it was all gone. It had been hours, and nothing else seemed to register, even the time was unknown, but late.

_Lacie._ A cry escaped his lips at the name, recalling it became a harsh recall of the horror, and tears again threatened to spill upon the folds of the jacket, still tight from his dressing earlier, completely ecstatic to see the day, to see them both, and see the joy of this present light. Unaware he found them carrying on, harsh upon their cries of hate of the Barmas, and turning immediately to the joy that showed in Jack's smile, his gait, the bright shine of the golden hair catching the traces of sun even under the walk. How cruel they sounded.

Another wave came on, rougher than before, the name crying out to him in Lacie's voice, taking on a new form. "Jack, come with me!" she called. Right from his memory, from the day she had found him, "_Jack! Come with me!_" He could feel her at his ear again, whispering, and then screaming. Her voice broke to yelling, cursing his name that he could not come to her. The cry out shocked Jack, and immediately he reached out from his place, lifting his fingers to the voice that he heard before him. The wick of the candle in front of him on the small rough table flickered instantly at his sudden touch, and the thing toppled as the light snuffed out, the heat still felt on Jack's finger, singeing his glove.

His hand stayed for a moment, his eyes wide, realizing what had just been done. He slowly removed it as his eyes curiously watched, his fingers reaching down after recognition to feel the cool of the wax, the length of the stick. His eyes darted instantly to the small window in the spare room, the curtains thrown together at odd angles, and he moved forward towards it, his fingers parting the folds as the hated golden light streamed in, ruining his vision, "Lacie." He said softly, and upon a minute turned out of the room, the door banging roughly as he made his way out to the approaching evening, moving forward towards the voice that was calling his name, biting at his ears until he felt them turn warm, and red.

…

(I couldn't help it)

Glen watched as the rambling hands moved, the scrunched gold of Jack's hair threatening to break free from his pretty braid. He was motionless, his lips opened from shock, as his eyes caught to the bright polished metal. "Jack, I do not understand. Your speech, have you gone from me?"

Jack laughed openly, though the mood made it even more unreal, "Am I? I thought so, and better so. Lacie calls for me, Glen! She calls, I must go to her!" Glen's brow furrowed, looking into the green eyes for some sort of understanding, his hand reached forward, his aim to just touch his sleeve, perhaps gain access to at least some piece of his mate, but immediately Jack's hand flew out, the flat of the blade making light contact with his hand. He slid the sword once again to his side, never once even looking away from Glen to suppose shame, his green eyes happy, the ghost choking him.

"What do you plan to do?" Glen swallowed, his hands growing tight, if Jack was really thinking about the lesser known legends, it was his obligation to go against him. Jack turned himself away then, tight on his heels, as the blade slapped in its place underneath the coat, "Glen-sama, certainly you know that one." He giggled, the tears already becoming apparent again, and with the turn of his head to look at his mate, the sheer horror stood out in Glen's eyes, his skin grown pale, but red with heat at the same time. "You cannot be seriously considering it. She's dead, Jack! If she wasn't dead before, she wouldn't live in Abyss more than a few seconds without incident!" Jack smiled, his feet again moving with a turn back, his braid coming to slap against his side, his head cocked to the side loosely for a quick moment as he studied Glen, "Oh, Lacie would never die! Regardless, she needs me." His eyes watched Glen's with such a normal gaze, it was impossible his servants would have held him back from the mansion, since he was frequent. "Do you know what kind of massacre that would take?"Glen hissed, trying his best not to strike out himself at this person, his eyes losing sight of Jack, who was no longer capable of being so. Those green eyes watched him, patient though his limbs suggested his immediate resignation to the plan he had come up with, the evening fading as the sun set outside the window.

Jack finally spoke, simply and giving the slightest of hope to Glen who hoped he was within reach, "Dear, are you frightened of me? You are angry with me, aren't you?" His eyes became sad, and for a moment his eyes searched his, coming back to him a few slow steps, though his hand slowly traced up along the side of his jacket, and suddenly Glen froze, Jack's fingers reaching around the hilt.

Glen suddenly leapt forward, drawing the sword first, as suddenly the flash of silver caught his eyes, the blade resting in Jack's hand. A smile played about his lips as finally tears began falling, his laugh terrible, "Well then, Darling. I suppose you'll have to excuse me while I get her." Glen held his blade fast to his side, completely enraged, "You are not!" Jack smiled, the blade coming to rest beside his heel, "She is our family, Glen. I have to save her-," the harshness of the cry seemed to catch a piece of Jack, holding him shocked for a moment at its force, "She is _my_ family, Jack!"

Glen's eyes strained against tears of hate as he stared back at the surprised eyes, the blade in his enemy's hand lying back away loosely, but only for a moment. Then another cry shrieked in Glen's ears, as suddenly the blade was lifted, prepared to strike in rage, "Why?" the scream called out to the flames that Glen could still see in the distance, invading the city as the sky darkened, "Why won't you let me save her? She is everything I have, Glen! Everything!" tears fell faster now, becoming clear ripples over Jack's skin, pale from wear, "Help me get her!" Glen's cries were loud back, though filled with an anger new to the ears of the men who faded outside the door, "No!"

Jack leveled himself, never known to be perfect at fighting, but it wasn't a skill so easily missed from such a close mark, "Tell me why! Why are you doing this, Glen?"

Footsteps suddenly picked in Glen's ears, clear as they moved quickly past the scenes of grime and death, Jack too far to hear the fear from the small footsteps, his name was heard over and over again, becoming closer.

Glen turned his attention back to Jack as his eyes raised again, Jack still standing, ready to kill him even as the child made his way towards the room where they were hidden. Glen held back though, he couldn't kill him. Not now, even when the city smelled of blood and of flames, the beauty of it scorched and dead. He couldn't take his eyes away from the green in Jack's, once happy and beautiful, lightened by the sun and reflecting with the leaves above them, the laugh still echoing in his ears, the soft touch of his hands to his chest as he tried to push him away, again and again, with no hope of ever winning, and never caring that he didn't.

But the footsteps were drawing closer, and the room smelled of the blood that clung to Jack's clothes, staining his sword, hanging in the lower strands of his braid. The eyes, beautiful and brilliant as they were, no longer held that which he longed to recover. Jack was dead, as Lacie was. Dragged into the abyss she was rumored to have leapt to; now held by chains and void of breath, now stained in red and prepared to die. "Why are you doing this, Glen! Answer me!"

Glen held back, though his hands shook, and Jack's eyes held. He heard the steps coming now, and he heard his name as the child ran towards them, finally seeing Jack, finally seeing his master.

"Stop!" he screamed, not even caring that both men had their swords drawn, oblivious to Jack's inability to reason. And they turned, Jack's frightened eyes threatened by the likes of Gil, as he barreled towards his master at full speed, ready to stop them, able to stop him.

Glen was too late, he knew, even as the warning came clear out of his lips as the child advanced, Jack's blade held back and tight, "Don't come any closer, Gil!" But Jack's blade was much faster.

He heard the child's skull hit, the bundle suddenly falling in horrific pain at Jack's feet, his own child. Glen finally felt the song turn in him, as those green eyes stared back at him, the happiness stinging in his tears, which fell faster now, impatient. He knew what he wanted, and no reason would keep him from turning back. Void of reason, the song turned again, dripping red and turning dark with the burning flames. His eyes turned away as Jack's reason slipped from his lips, his bright eyes empty and crazed. His blade couldn't raise itself again, as the small child reached for him, invariably the only one left to him, the rest swallowed in wretched flames by Abyss, all his love was dead.

And the last stains of light drained from the sky, crippled and low, as the room faded to the gold of the candles, lightening the blood around him, and in the gold of Jack's hair, which glittered in everlasting joy at his thigh.

…..

_Lacie._


End file.
